


The Start of Something

by silverfoxstole



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (TV Movie 1996)
Genre: Alternative ending to the TVM, As usual the Doctor is not in control of his ship, Gen, The TARDIS trio that never was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 14:23:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8670937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxstole/pseuds/silverfoxstole
Summary: The TARDIS is being temperamental and it's taking rather longer than expected to get Grace and Lee back to the 31st of December 1999.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story sort of follows State of Grace, as in the Doctor doesn't take Grace and Lee straight home at the end of the TVM. It may or may not turn into a series. Anything's possible...

“So... the TARDIS is alive, right?” Lee asked, leaning on the ledge in a position only a teenage boy would find comfortable: resting on one elbow, legs stuck out almost at a right angle.

There was a spark and a crack from under the console and a hand appeared to wave away a puff of smoke. “In a manner of speaking.” The Doctor’s answer was muffled by whatever panel he’d jammed his head into as he worked to replace the cables that had been wrenched out when he wired the beryllium chip into the ship’s innards. His voice dropped to a soothing murmur, the kind one might use to a small child or an elderly pet. “Oh, you poor old girl. Whatever have we done to you, eh? Never mind, I’ll soon have you shipshape again.”

“Like: she actually talks to you?”

“Not in so many words.” From where she sat on the edge of the library, sensibly staying out of the firing line should the Doctor manage to blow them all up, Grace could only see a pair of bent knees clad in loose greyish-brown trousers. After a moment the hand reappeared, this time reaching blindly for something from the toolbox that sat beside him on the dais. “It’s rather complicated and difficult to explain. You see, a Time Lord and his TARDIS are symbiotically linked.”

Lee pulled a face, as though he’d just been spoken to in Swahili. “What does _that_ mean?”

“Essentially, that the TARDIS is alive and she talks to me.” There was amusement in the Doctor’s voice now. He twisted, legs stretching out, and Grace was presented with the ridged soles of Brian’s old shoes.

“Oh, ha ha.” Lee rolled his eyes. “Thanks for nothing, Doc.”

A clink and then a very definite _boing!_ came from under the console. “If you have a few weeks to spare I can find the manual and explain it to you,” the Time Lord replied, unperturbed. “Mind you, that might be a bit awkward if volumes twelve to one thousand and forty-seven are still missing...”

Grace, getting used to life in the company of a man who spoke nonsense like a native, shook her head with what was fast becoming a fond smile. One black lace-up was raised to give the underside of the console a sharp kick and she couldn’t help recalling the evening she’d given them to him, an evening that had followed what she would have described at that point as the most baffling few hours of her life. If only she’d know what was to come!

_“Here; these look about the right size,” she’d said, dumping the box on the table and not caring right now that it nearly hit one of the empty cups (tea, not coffee, for him, and how glad she’d been when he told her that; he was skittish enough already, the thought of him on a caffeine buzz was too scary to contemplate)._

_He frowned, as though he’d never seen a pair of nearly-new shoes before. God knew why Brian had left them behind but remembered to take the sofa when he cleared out so fast, but there they’d been on the floor of the closet and she certainly wasn’t going to give them back; she owned more of that damned sofa than he did. “And they are...?”_

_“Shoes.” Grace took them out and waved them in front of him. “We wear them here on Earth. I found a pair of socks too; if you carry on running around without you’ll get hypothermia.”_

_“Ah, I see! Thank you!” A quite dazzling smile was aimed at her and to her intense annoyance she felt her heart do a somersault. Great, now she was having feelings for a lunatic she’d only known a couple of hours and who was suffering from amnesia yet thought he was the reincarnation of the patient she’d lost last night. What the hell did she ever do wrong to deserve all this? “I very much appreciate it; all of mine are...” He trailed off, eyes suddenly vague and that faintly lost look settling over his features once more._

_“Are where?” she prompted gently despite herself, half hoping that maybe something so mundane as a sock might trigger a memory. No such luck._

_He shook his head, expression mournful. “I don’t remember.”_

_Grace’s hope deflated. “Oh. Well, never mind.” She turned to pick up the box she’d brought from her office. Her dress was probably creased beyond repair. “I’m going to put this stuff away and have a shower. Then we’ll take a look at your blood. I hope you’re not squeamish around needles.”_

_“I don’t think so. If I can deal with a wire in my veins I’m sure I can handle a hypodermic,” he said, arching an eyebrow._

_Ignoring the verbal needle, she left him to try on his shoes. She took her time in the shower, allowing the hot water to ease away the kinks in her muscles and soothe the turmoil in her mind. A tiny part of her still clung to the thought that perhaps she’d had too many late nights and was hallucinating, the only logical explanation for there to be a man apparently with two hearts sitting in her living room, a man who had pulled from his chest the microsurgical probe she’d last seen vanish into the body of someone completely different. She wanted to believe in that hypothesis, as the only other remotely feasible was that she’d finally cracked and was in desperate need of a head-check from psychiatric._

_It was dark when she made her way back downstairs. Much to her disappointment, her hallucination was still there; he must have heard her coming as he’d taken off his coat and rolled up his sleeve in readiness. Grace fetched her equipment without a word, and it wasn’t until she was tightening the tourniquet around his arm that he said, “You left those behind.”_

_“Keep still,” she admonished as he tried to point with the hand she was holding against the table as she looked for a vein. “Left what behind?”_

_“Those.” Instead he nodded, as though indicating with his nose, and she finally saw the brown bag sitting on the counter top._

_“Oh.” She swabbed the crook of his elbow with antiseptic. “They’re just candy, and they’re not mine.”_

_He barely even seemed to notice when she broke the needle out of its packet and slid it expertly into the vein, the frown back again. “Then whose are they?”_

_Grace gently drew his blood. It was a strange colour, a sort of orange-red.  “They belonged to Mr Smith, the gunshot wound from last night. I must have picked ‘em up when I left.”_

_“Then that must mean...” His long fingers were beating a tattoo on his bottom lip. “That must mean they’re mine!”_

_“I guess so,” she agreed, putting the vial of blood aside and withdrawing the needle. It was much easier for the moment just to humour him. Finding some cotton wool she grabbed hold of his hand, dragging it away and pressing his fingers to the puncture. “Here: lift your arm up and hold this for a minute.”_

_He did, but for barely thirty seconds before he was investigating that damned paper bag. “Aha! Jelly babies!” he crowed triumphantly, pulling out what to Grace looked like a fat little man made of jell-o and covered in sugar. She felt vaguely nauseated._

_“Hey!” she exclaimed, reaching for him but he twisted easily away. “You need to keep that arm still; you’ll hurt yourself.”_

_“I don’t think so. It’s healed over already; look.” He raised his arm, and to her amazement he was right: there was no bruising, so blood, no hint that she’d even touched him. With a smile he offered her the bag. “Would you like one?”_

_“I... think I’ll pass, thanks all the same.” She stood to securely dispose of the needle and accompanying paraphernalia and he shrugged, chewing down on one of the sweets with an appreciative hum. As she busied herself setting up microscope and slides, taking out a new notebook and pen, he rolled down his sleeve and tied his cravat with a flourish, slipping back into that ridiculous velvet coat. Ten minutes later he was perched on the cabinet at her back as she stared at the impossibility that was magnified before her._

_“How’s my blood?”_

_“It’s not blood...”_

“There! That should do it.” The Doctor shut the panel with a bang loud enough to return Grace to the present and stood, somehow without cracking his head on the underside of the console. His unruly hair was full of dust and there was a smear of something unidentifiable down one cheek. The sonic screwdriver whirled through his long fingers with the dexterity of a gunslinger before it vanished into his pocket as he pored over the displays, Lee at his side. “Now, let’s see... ah.”

“That ‘ah’ does not sound very encouraging,” Grace said, getting up to join them.

“Sorry, would you prefer ‘hmm’?” he asked, distracted, as he ran a hand over the controls, flicking switches and giving the wheel made of coloured lights a spin. The TARDIS gave an asthmatic cough. “Now, that’s not right.”

She sighed. “I knew it. What’ve you done now?”

His head shot up and she was pinned with a sharp blue stare surrounded by an expression of wounded innocence. “ _I_ haven’t done anything! My repairs should have put right the damage caused by the Master and the energies that were released from the Eye of Harmony.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

 Much to her surprise, the Doctor chuckled. “Grace, Grace, Grace, I’ve been fixing the TARDIS for centuries. I know her systems better than the back of my own hand. Why, I’ve even had to - ”

“Hey, Doc,” Lee called from the other side of the console, interrupting him mid-ramble. “Should it be doing this?”

“Doing what?” The Time Lord was there in an instant, eyebrows rising so far they nearly met his fringe. He toggled a couple of levers and thumped the console right above the date indicator. “No, it definitely should not be doing that. I input our course; we were only hovering in the vortex while I made the repairs.” His mouth set in determination as he began to confidently manipulate the controls, his hands moving so fast they were practically a blur. Grace looked up and saw the monitor that hung above the console cycling through a series of places and times, each one flashing onto the screen for barely a moment before it slid away.

“What is it?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“The TARDIS has decided to take matters into her own hands. For whatever reason, she doesn’t seem to want us to return to San Francisco on the thirty-first of December 1999.”

“What? Why?”

He shot her a look of mild exasperation. “If I knew that do you think I’d be fighting with her like this?” Another thump. “Come on, come on, old girl, you don’t need to do this... I know you don’t like it but just the once, just for me, _please_?”

Grace strode round to his side of the console but looking at the readouts there didn’t help as none of it made the blindest bit of sense to her. She could feel panic building and an irrational urge to slap the Doctor for scaring her like this. “Are you trying to say that you can’t take us home?”

“It would appear that way, yes.” He ducked underneath and opened a hatch in the panel there, rummaging around inside.

“Oh my God. Not ever?”

“Well, not at this immediate juncture, certainly. Would you hold this, please?”

Grace took the bundle of crystals he handed her, gritting her teeth both from frustration and the whine of the sonic screwdriver. “Doctor, I have work in the morning!”

“Really?” His head popped up and he blinked in surprise. “I thought you’d resigned?”

“I... what? How did you know that? Did you read my mind again?”

“I’m not a mind reader, Grace. Most people don’t carry the contents of their office with them when they leave for the day,” he said and disappeared.

Grace heard a snigger and glared at Lee, who was trying to wipe the grin off his face. “Doesn’t this bother you?”

He shrugged. “Not really. What’ve I got to go back to? No one’s going to care if I spend a while seeing the universe.” Stepping back he turned his attention to the holographic view-screen above their heads, the whole ceiling bathed in the blue-green beauty of the time vortex. The expression on his face came very close to genuine awe. “Why would you want to go home with all that to explore?”

“I don’t know, I just... I’m not ready to become a space traveller!” Grace yelled.

“Unfortunately, I think you may have to get used to the idea,” said the Doctor, jumping up between them like a jack-in-the-box and taking the crystals from her. He shoved them back where they belonged and shut the hatch. “She’s not going anywhere near that night, I’m afraid. There must be some residual scarring in the vortex that’s putting her off.”

“But the future does exist, right? You told me that whatever the frick it was I did to re-route the power worked.”

“Oh, it did and it does,” he replied incomprehensibly. “Earth is still there, the new millennium is intact. It just seems that the TARDIS’s own sense of self-preservation is keeping her away.”

“You mean she doesn’t want to jump right back into the fire?” asked Lee.

“Precisely. Sorry, Grace; it looks like you’ll have to settle for the scenic route.” To his credit, the Doctor did look very apologetic... for about ten seconds before he was grinning. “Well, you’re both very welcome to stay. I’m sure it isn’t but it feels like aeons since I last had companions about the place. How about an adventure?”

Lee’s response was immediate, and Grace winced at the delighted whoop he made. “I’m in!”

“Excellent! Grace?”

She shook her head. Though she couldn’t in all honesty say she was entirely happy with the idea of being stuck millions of light years and only God knew how many centuries from home, it didn’t look as though she’d be going anywhere anytime soon. And she had to admit, meeting the Doctor’s eager gaze and practically feeling the enthusiasm he was radiating, she didn’t really mind the company all that much. She found a handkerchief in her pocket and stepped over to clean the smudge of whatever from his face. “I guess someone has to keep you in line,” she told him, wiping at his cheek. “If I leave you alone you’re going to get into all kinds of trouble.”

He smiled. “I can promise you it’ll be more fun than job-hunting.”

“That’s a claim you better live up to, Doctor,” Grace said as she reached up to remove a cobweb from his hair. His breath brushed her wrist and there was a definite twinkle in his eye when he replied,

“Oh, I always keep my promises, Doctor.”

There was a theatrical groan from the other side of the console. “Oh, _please_. If you two are going to flirt can you get a room?” Lee asked, disgusted. “The kid really doesn’t need to watch.”

The Doctor burst out laughing, and after a beat Grace couldn’t help joining him. “All right, Lee, you win,” he said, turning back to the console and flexing his fingers over the controls. “Where do you want to go?”

Lee spread his arms expansively. “Everywhere!”

“That might take a while; perhaps we should narrow it down to at least one of a hundred times and places first. Grace?” The Doctor glanced at her, one brow arched expectantly.

“You really think this heap is going to let you tell her where you want to go?” she enquired, and the eyebrow just lifted further. She hesitated. _In for a penny_... "Oh, what the hell." A smile broke over her face. “Surprise me.”

“Ah, leaving it up to chance. Excellent choice. Hold onto your hats, ladies and gents, assuming you’re wearing any.” With a grin the Doctor released the handbrake and hit the dematerialisation switch. The floor jolted as elephantine bellow of the TARDIS’s engines filled the room. Grace clung onto the nearest girder. “Here we go...!”

And they did. Into the unknown, off on what just might turn out to be an awfully big adventure...

 


End file.
